No regerts

October 18th, 2016, 11:34 AM by Goddess

There’s a commercial for a candy bar, where a punk-rock girl tattoos “No Regerts” on a dopey biker dude’s arm.

It makes me cringe because there are two misspellings on my calendar that drive me crazy. Also, I’m an editor.

At least, I think I’m an editor. I really don’t know how to identify lately. Female, feminist, Republican (at least, I am voting for the Republican in this election — for Democrat Hillary Clinton), daughter, kitty momma, blogger, wine drinker, coffee connoisseur, sun worshiper and goddess.

Note there’s no writer or editor or expert or investing legend in there. I’ve gotten away from those sorts of things in an effort to manage my time better. Way to go, giving up what defines you so you can learn OPP (other people’s processes) instead.

Anyway. Regerts.


I wish I had never just walked out on the job that March morning six years ago.

There, I said it.

I was upset about a lot of things, yes. And I also had a job waiting. So there’s that.

But …

I wish I hadn’t wasted the moment. On people who I thought at the time either deserved it or wouldn’t care either way.

I’m not saying I wish I could do it now. But what I am saying is that I wish I hadn’t burned that bridge, and not for the reason I did it.

I did it in solidarity with another employee (a bunch, actually, but one in particular) who would go on to screw ME over big-time. Like the bitch didn’t learn how it felt to be utterly shafted by people you trusted.

I lost friendships when I picked my allegiance. I lost connections, too, some of whom have actually gone on to do better things — even the people I hoped to never run into again.

Anyway. When I maybe perhaps just briefly for a moment imagine saying exactly what’s on my mind at the exact moment I think it, I reflect. And feel more than just a little regret.

Did I owe them more? Maybe. Did I owe myself — my reputation, my integrity, my ability to hold my head high and not avert my gaze when I see these people on the street — more? Absolutely.

Because nobody would accept it if I said I were simply eating a Milky Way. I shoulda had a Snickers bar … or a damn V-8 … instead.


October 13th, 2016, 2:17 PM by Goddess

My vacation week is going well, if you define vacation week as “being at work every single day.”

I’ve had worse days, I guess

October 10th, 2016, 3:41 PM by Goddess

Number of Arnold Horshack-sounding belly laughs out of me today: 1

Number of random crying jags: 2

Number of times someone said, “Aren’t you supposed to be on vacation this week?”: 3

Number of articles left to edit at 4 p.m.: 4

Here’s to not hearing another Trumpish cocaine stiff for the balance of the day. I have a big fight to go have with a neighbor later, so I’m saving my rage for that.


October 4th, 2016, 1:14 PM by Goddess

I won’t lie. I am filled with a very familiar feeling right now. And it’s ugly. 

Hearing about Trump’s taxes pushed me over the edge. Sure, I get to pay 2% of my income, on top of the other 30%, because of Obamacare. But we reward Trump for being a terrible businessman. 

The thing with the candidates in this election is that the one you won’t vote for reminds you of every boss you hated. 

He’s the blustering butthead you couldn’t escape till you were mad enough to take the first halfway decent offer that came along. 

He’s the one who made you turn your back on your cool team for greener pastures. 

The one who found a way to scratch a fingernail down the chalkboard of your soul 260 days a year. 

The one who got promoted and rewarded as dozens if not hundreds abandoned their passions because of him. 

And I know plenty who worship at the Cheeto Jesus altar who feel the same way about my candidate. 

As I’ve said before, some you’d want to go over a cliff for and others will kick you over it. 

That’s the choice on Nov. 8. I choose not to get kicked. I’m fuckin’ Lucy this year. That ball is mine. And if it isn’t, I am not giving it to him. 


October 3rd, 2016, 8:31 AM by Goddess

Ever throw a tantrum before finally reaching the acceptance stage …

Only to have a wrench thrown at that

And now you may not experience what you FINALLY talked yourself into believing would be a good thing?

Honestly I was just mad about something else in the first place. But it’s easier to be crabby about something tangible than try to tap-dance around what’s really bugging you.